


Straight to Your Knees

by norgbelulah



Series: Did it Cruel, Did it Tenderly [3]
Category: Justified
Genre: F/M, Intoxication, M/M, Secret Relationship, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winona knows everyone keeps secrets.  But Raylan holds onto his for dear life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight to Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "skeletons in the closet" square on my hc_bingo card. This fic follows two entires in a series I wrote, unofficially titled Did It Cruel, Did It Tenderly.

The car ride was making her sick.

It was just the motion, Winona thought as cars whizzed past and trees crawled by, the motion and not anything else. It was not the fact that they were coming from the funeral of Raylan’s beloved aunt, not the fact that Harlan County, Kentucky was the most dangerous place she could think of Raylan to be going in or out of, and especially not the abundance of secrets that seemed to be invading her life.

She put a hand to her queasy stomach. His secrets and hers.

Winona always knew Raylan kept secrets. He hid things about his job, about his feelings, and most of all about his childhood and his past in Kentucky.

When they first met, she felt like she never stopped talking about home. She said she never wanted to go back, she insisted that she’d always hated life there, but she knew now there was such a thing as protesting too much. She had really missed it, she had missed familiar things, comforting things, and she had actually missed her overbearing mother.

Winona would always be glad that she returned, even if she hadn’t ever laid eyes on Raylan Givens again.

She had always assumed Raylan’s opinion of home was somewhat similar. That it hadn’t been quite as bad as he’d painted it to her, that there were things about it that he’d loved and that he’d eventually go back to.

When Winona went with Raylan to Harlan, when she saw him there among the trappings of his past, she realized all he’d really left behind was violence and grief. Sure, his father seemed nice enough, but the contempt in Raylan’s face when they spoke gave her pause. That edge of a mocking smile on Arlo’s face when he made Raylan stay for the toast put a chill down her spine.

The toast itself had been rather lovely. She’d seen real grief in the faces of that woman’s loved ones, especially Ava. In Ava’s face, Winona had seen regret, a keenly felt sorrow for a lost friend. Winona had wished she’d known Helen herself, and had wished too that she could know Ava better, despite, or perhaps because of, her relationship with Raylan.

Winona wondered about Ava’s new man, Boyd Crowder, and how those two had somehow come together with all that had been between them before. It wasn’t like Raylan didn’t talk, so Winona did know about Boyd. But she wondered how it was that so much could be forgiven in so little time, that the two of them could look at each other in the privately intimate way that they did.

Her thoughts turned to the way they both had looked at Raylan right before she left with him, like something monumental had just been revealed. She thought about Boyd in particular. There had been a need in his eyes, a search for understanding and maybe for something else in the way he gazed at Raylan. It had looked to Winona like something had shaken Raylan just as deeply.

Winona didn’t understand it, but she wanted to, and she hated how doggedly her man held onto his secrets.

Raylan’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, her tell-tale sign that he was thinking hard about something. His expression was set in a neutral mask, but every once in a while he clenched his jaw, like he was reminding himself of something unpleasant, like he had to keep it down.

Finally, Winona just couldn’t hold it in anymore. “What did Boyd tell you,” she asked, “that put that look on your face?”

“What look?” He shot back automatically.

She raised her brows. He was defensive already, this was not good. “The one that’s making you look like you’re stopping yourself from throwing up every couple minutes.”

“I don’t look like that,” he said. “It’s nothing.” Raylan’s eyes were glued to the road now.

“It’s not,” she said emphatically. “You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Raylan blinked rapidly and Winona thought for a split second that he would begin to cry. But she shook herself and the moment passed when he said in a low voice, “Helen’s dead, Winona, how do you want me to look?”

“You know, I don’t think that’s it,” she returned. “You didn’t look like that earlier.”

He shot her a perturbed look, hinting that perhaps she had caught him, but he only said in a voice that rang with finality, “I can’t tell you about this. Don’t ask about it.”

“Too late,” she said savagely, thinking there was no way he was going to dictate this to her. “How can we do this, Raylan, how can we be together if you can’t talk to me?” She never meant to argue, but somehow they always got to this point faster than she expected.

Raylan’s knuckles were white as his face. He just shook his head, too quiet, too calm for the argument they were having. Winona didn’t like it. “I can talk to you, Winona,” he said. “But I can’t talk about this. I’m gonna ask you again, just drop it.”

“That’s not asking,” she cried, beyond frustrated. “You’re just making demands and calling it a request. We can’t keep doing this.”

He turned a white hot glare on her and she almost shrank back from its intensity. “Then this will be the last time we do it. Do not ask me about this again, Winona. I won’t like it and I know you won’t either. Now, I’m done talking.”

“Is that a threat? Is that I won’t like it because of what you’ll say or what you’ll do?” Winona didn’t know why she said that. He’d never given her any indication he would hit her, or take things out on her like that, not in twelve years of marriage and not now either. But she had never seen him so adamant about anything as he was about this. She didn’t know why she couldn’t stop pushing.

The look on his face was that deadly calm, but she saw him suppress a flash of hurt before he said, “I’m not going to answer that. We’re done talking about this.”

She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at the passing trees, all nausea forgotten, and they spent the rest of the trip in silence.

 

Months later, they were at a restaurant, celebrating his transfer being made official, and he was the only one drinking while she ate for two.  
He was smiling his buzzed smile and it was wide, which meant he was just around the corner from tipsy. She smiled right back at him, laughing when he laughed and enjoying the meal.

They’d somehow gotten onto the topic of secrets, of all things.

It had been something about one of his last cases. Information withheld by a victim, of course the details were sketchy, because they didn’t want to hurt a spouse. Raylan had said he didn’t understand it.

Winona had to laugh. “You? Don’t understand keeping secrets?”

He looked at her, all wide-eyed innocence, his hands spread across the table in a questioning gesture. “What secrets do I keep? And before you say anything, not wanting to share is not the same as keeping secrets, and it’s not the same as dishonesty. If it was important, I wouldn’t hold anything back.”

She returned his look with a hard stare and said, “Important to you or important to me?”

He sat back, obviously surprised. “What is it that you think I’m hiding?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Raylan,” she answered, making it obvious that she did care to know.

He glared at her, rising to the challenge, leaning forward almost aggressively. “Ask me,” he said. “I’ll tell you whatever it is you’re so damn curious about.”

“About Helen’s funeral then,” she said immediately.

Winona saw him realize he hadn’t quite thought this through, but she was determined. She’d asked him once and he refused to tell her. Tonight he was going to.

“Listen to me, Winona,” he said low. “Are you sure you want to open this can up? Because this question is personal, very private to me. It’s something you may not want to know and something you’re going to have to live with.” He looks significantly at her belly, making sure she understands. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I don’t understand what can be so private, Raylan,” she heard desperation in her tone and realized this wasn’t just about her losing an argument, or about her curiosity. This was about him holding back from her, just when she thought they’d be fine, that they were so much more honest than they had ever been before. “What can it possibly be that you don’t think you can tell me? That you think I won’t understand?”

He grabbed at his drink, watered down bourbon, still chilled from the melted ice, and swallowed the two remaining gulps in quick succession. “That’s fine,” he said, tapping his glass angrily. “You can ask whatever you want, and I’ll tell you the truth, but I’m going to be drunk when I tell you. Very, very drunk.”

“Fine,” she returned with steel in her tone. “I’ll drive, then.”

He handed her the keys and ordered another drink.

 

Winona was surprised that Raylan could walk on his own when they finally left the restaurant.

He’d drank enough bourbon at her to put a horse to sleep. They hadn’t said much to each other and she’d lingered over a cherry cheesecake for desert that did not taste quite as sweet as it should have.

She held the passenger side door open for him and looked at him critically while he struggled to buckle his seat belt. She said nothing to his hazy glare. It would be almost cute if she wasn’t already regretting what had brought this all on, but here they were and they both knew neither of them would back down now.

It wasn’t until she’d pulled out of the drive and onto the road that he turned to her and said, “You still have to ask your questions, Winona. I’m not gonna just start talking.”

Well, of course not, she thought.

He was slumped in his seat, fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose.

“Would you like to wait until we get back?” She made it a point never to call his room “home.”

He shrugged. “I just didn’t want to do it in public. You can start whenever you like.” He waved his hand vaguely at her and leaned his head against the window.

At least she knew lying would be extremely difficult for him at this juncture, but she wondered how far they would get before he passed out.

“Well,” she said carefully. “I think I already know, despite your trying to hide it, that Boyd Crowder said something, something you didn’t know before, at Helen’s funeral. That something made you upset. Is that right?” She wanted to be sure they started out on the same page, especially if things started to get confused because of the presence of so much alcohol.

“Yeah,” Raylan said to the glass. “If upset is the word you want to use.”

“All right. What did Boyd say to you?” She kept her eyes on the road, peeved at herself for being unable to wait until she could look at his face the entire time they were having this conversation.

“Wait a minute,” Raylan said, like he’d just thought of something. “He said it to Ava, not to me. He was talking to Ava. I just... heard him say it. Boyd didn’t say anything to me at all.” Then he smiled. “Slippery fucking bastard.”

Winona glared daggers at him, then at the road, then back at him. “Just ‘cause he’s slippery doesn’t mean you’re getting out of this, you asshole. What did Boyd say? What didn’t you know that’s so goddamn important?”

“I love you,” he said suddenly, turning his face towards her. She’d always known that, and normally she loved hearing him say it. He’d been doing it more and more often since the baby, sometimes for almost no reason at all. Except now, his expression was made up of a half-smile, somewhat wistful and relaxed in his stupor, but there was fear in his eyes, the kind she could see when he was afraid he’d made her angry. This fear went deeper, though, than she could ever remember seeing.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

He nodded, like he’d needed the reminder he hadn’t actually answered the question yet. “Boyd said it was Helen, who asked him to...” Raylan trailed off, looking out the window again and didn’t speak for a moment. Then, he burst out with, “Jesus,” as if he were re-living the revelation all over again. He sounded like he was going to be sick and the rest of his words were muffled, as if there was a hand was over his face. “Helen asked him to end it and I thought... for so long...” He twisted in his seat somehow, but there were oncoming cars on the road, lights coming at them, and Winona couldn’t turn to see him.

“Raylan,” she said urgently. “Raylan, it’s all right.”

“Winona, I think I’m gonna be sick, I...”

“Just hold on, baby,” she said, staring at his hunched back as his head went between his knees. “We’re almost there.” She resolved not to ask him anything else... immediately.

 

He did not vomit in his car and, it took a while, but she got him into the room safely. They staggered over to the bed and dropped onto it together. His breath smelled ridiculously of alcohol and threatened to turn her stomach as well, but he clung to her, a green expression on his face and she didn’t have the heart to pull away.

She didn’t have to ask that time to get him to speak again. When he did there was a hurt in his voice, one she could tell had been buried deep.

“He told me, he told me, Winona, when we first started that there wouldn’t be lies between us. Lies everywhere else, but not for me an’ him And that’s the worst part. He used a lie to push me out. Helen used that lie too and she never said, she never told me, so I could never get it back. She let it lie and so did he and now I’ll never know.” He tried to push away from her, but she held on.

She drew her fingers through his hair softly and said, “Never know what?”

He shook his head, like he couldn’t take the comfort she was offering. He drew back and looked her in the face. His expression was wrecked. There were no tears in his eyes, but she almost wished there were so he could have that relief. As of yet, nothing but words had been purged from him.

When he spoke it was in a hushed tone, not far from a whisper, “Whether all of it was a lie. Or just the last one. I know I can’t trust him now. Can I trust who he used to be?” He blinked at her and swayed forward a little, taking his sweet time to find balance. She pulled him back to her, wishing he had thrown up, remembering he had work in the morning.

Winona thought about Boyd Crowder and then she thought about Ava and Boyd. “I don’t know, honey,” she said to the ceiling. “Tell me what he did, Raylan. I still don’t understand what he did.”

He answered immediately, like the words had been on his lips all night, “He slept with a girl.”

Her imagination had gone to something criminal. They’d been partners, something went wrong. Maybe even murder. She thought she could deal with murder. They’d already dealt with theft, they could deal with jealousy too, infidelity, betrayal. She knew this.

“Your girl?”

“No.”

“A girl you wanted?”

“No.” This was said with a strange amount of vehemence, like wanting that girl was the last thing he’d ever think of doing.

She twisted a little and maneuvered them both to face each other laying on the bed. She raised her palm to cup his face and he just blinked at her slowly. “Then what, Raylan?” Her question was soft, patient. She could handle it.

“He slept with someone who wasn’t me.”

Every muscle in Winona’s body froze, stiff, unmoving. She felt like even her heart stopped beating for a moment and she couldn’t look away from Raylan’s eyes. She’d never seen them so open, so honest.

“Christ,” she found herself choking out. This revelation was the absolute last thing she had expected, so much so that she almost wanted to laugh, but she was worried she’d completely lose it, so she just bit her lip and made some sort of stifled whimpering sound. That was almost worse.

“You shouldn’t have asked,” he said and tried to turn away.

“No,” she said, collecting herself, grabbing at his shoulder to stop him. “No, Raylan, don’t say that.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and faced him again, faced those torn open eyes. She had done this, she could do this. “Boyd. You said... you said he lied, even when he promised not to. What was the lie, Raylan? What did he tell you when you found out about that girl?”

“It doesn’t matter what he said, I knew he was lying. I knew he was trying to chase me away, but I didn’t know why. I thought it was because he just... didn’t want to be like that... with me. So, I left, like they wanted me to.” Raylan rolled away after she let him go reluctantly, all her attention on processing this information. He sat up and put his head in his hands, speaking to the floor, he added, “And I didn’t just find out about the girl. I saw them together. He engineered the whole thing. He didn’t want her either.”

He didn’t want to be that way, Winona kept thinking, over and over as she watched him stand unsteadily and go for a glass, fill it with water, sway over the sink and chug it down. She hadn’t moved from the bed, couldn’t really, until she asked, “Did you want to?”

He blinked slowly at her from the kitchen and she craned her neck to see him. “Want to what?”

“Be that way,” she answered quietly.

His hand moved to the counter and he leaned hard against it. “I can’t answer that. I don’t know. It was so long ago and all... screwed up.” Raylan paused and met her eyes squarely before he continued in a more certain tone, “I never wanted to with anyone else.”

Winona took another breath and laid back down. She didn’t remove her clothes. “Come to bed, Raylan,” she said and closed her eyes, shutting it out.

 

Winona awoke to the sound of the shower turning off. She rolled over to blink blearily at Raylan emerge from the bathroom, clad only in a towel and smiling just a little ruefully.

“Hey,” she said uncertainly, but he just kept on with that smile.

“Hey,” he returned, his voice a little rough. “I don’t know what you did last night, honey, but I haven’t been that kind of blackout drunk in seven, eight years, at least.” He wandered over to the closet and shifted things around a bit, took one shirt down then put it back on the rack. He grunted a little then called, “Remind me to do some laundry soon, huh?”

It maybe took a split second longer than it should have to sink in, but when it did Winona sat bolt upright and cursed under her breath, “Jesus, Raylan,” as she scrambled for the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and turned on the faucet before she started sobbing.

She was never going to tell him what happened. They both could keep their secrets.


End file.
